Sins of the Betrayed
by Alto2
Summary: Harry Potter is considered too close to Voldermort and is locked in Azkaban, but have the light really left him there for good? and will Harry even be sane enough to be a part of their plans? Slash eventually
1. Chapter 1

I have come to the conclusion that when the idea bug hits you, you just have to write 'till it goes away. Here's the result lol

Dislclaimer: I don't own hp or make money off this story

* * *

><p>He stared at the ceiling, the rough and ragged stone of it no longer holding any interest as he'd already memorized every dip and shadow during his time here. There was a sliding noise of worm fabric against straw covered wood as his leg involuntarily jiggled in the effort to keep moving, the rest of his body was still as a statue against what passed for his bed. The atmosphere was oppressive, even now when the dementors technically shouldn't be able to get to him, as despite what he knew he could always feel them. Their presence always looming on his thoughts and his soul while he had no escape from it.<p>

Suddenly he rose, beginning to pace back and forth in the groves that ran in the rough stone from the countless prisoners who had been in this cell before him. He tried not to think about how they left it though as the months go by he found leaving by any means more and more appealing. With each pass he faced his wall, that held the sky from his gaze, and the bars which held the dementors out but kept him in. He was never quite sure which was worse.

His emotions were calm for the moment, but he knew that wouldn't last. He was so volatile, always. Each thought bringing with it the possibility of setting him off in a rage or turning him into a sobbing child. He could feel the madness creeping in as time went by, not knowing how long he'd been in here but knowing that his mind grew weaker by the day and he lost more and more control of himself. He marveled more and more about how Sirius had seemed so sane when he saw him, and envied his ability to turn into an animegus when he could bring himself to care enough for envy.

The worst of it though was that he had no escape from his thoughts, it was the only thing he could do, think and pace. Sometimes sleep if he was lucky, but usually that too was plagued with thoughts, though these ones were Voldermorts and not his own.

He'd long ago learned that just not thinking was the worse option of the too though, as the dementors and Voldermort forced him to face the horrors of his life and that of the world today, and if he only had these things clouding his head he was afraid of how far he might fall. Afraid that he'd offer himself up to the next dementor he saw or death eater he came across, begging to have his soul removed or to pledge loyalty to the dark lord respectively, though really there wasn't much difference between the two. So, he thought. Not bright, happy thoughts you usually might conclude would be used to stave off the dark. No, those didn't work anymore; he had to replace them as normal things no longer cheered him up or brought him happiness. He instead found himself pondering how he might best off the dark lord, on the days that he felt up to killing him that was, other days he pictured the looks on those who'd betrayed him's faces if he actually joined the mad man. Some days he even found himself planning torture, doing true evil and proving all those bastards right.

In the end though, he could never be as horrible as they thought he was, he didn't have it in him to just hurt for the sake of hurt. He could kill them though, he was fairly sure now. Maybe not torture or abuse, but he thought he could make their eyes go glassy and make them meet their maker, they wouldn't be around to suffer for their wrongs but they at least wouldn't be able to mock harry with the knowledge they still existed and were happier for his suffering.

He felt the memory grip him just moments before it did, but he'd long ago learned not to fight his subconscious when it felt the need to replay his past. Possibly so he wouldn't forget, but he was more inclined to believe it was with the internal hope to experience the sensations of a very vivid dream. He'd been deprived of true touch, sight, smell, taste, hearing, and_ freedom_ for so long that these memories were beginning to seem like the true reality almost.

So, it was with that brief realization that he was brought to the events that had lead up to his current predicament.

It had been during his fourth year, Mad-Eye Moody had been hired to teach defense that year, as well as the TriWizard Tournament being held on Hogwarts grounds. It had all started during his DADA lessons, when he'd thrown off the Imperius curse. He'd learned shortly after that it was supposed to be impossible to throw off the Imperius without having trained to do so, but at the time he'd believed it was just will-power. After that he'd been watched more closely though, and the rumors of him being the heir of Slytherin had appeared again. His lack of explanation for what happened in the Chamber of Secrets had caught up to him and as such he was looked at suspiciously for these events, hated for being a champion, and at odds with all but Hermione and Sirius.

It was when Sirius didn't respond to his letters for a month that things really got bad though. His dreams had gotten worse and worse, and he'd been afraid that a spell might have been placed on him, and so he'd confided in Hermione as Sirius wasn't responding and he'd had no one else. Hermione though, had nodded and seemed sympathetic, but than gone to Dumbledore, telling him everything.

The old man had apparently been waiting for just such a thing as he'd immediately brought him in, checking and then finding a link between him and what was left of the Dark Lord's soul. He'd been basically a prisoner after that, watched at all times. it was only after he got back after the third task that everything had blown up in his face.

Before Mad-Eye could take him away as he'd been planning to do, get him out of the limelight he supposed, he'd been accused of helping Voldermort get his body back. Dumbledore had apparently gone mad, ranting about how it all made sense now, they'd probably made a deal of sorts to take advantage of the Wizarding world.

Truthfully everything after that became a blur and he only remembered two things. 1) everyone believed him to be Voldermorts best ally and 2)No one had bothered to confirm this before they'd locked him away.

Left him in this cell to think. To ponder. To contemplate his life. His relatives and their abuse, verbal and physical. The Wizarding world's ability to put him on a pedestal to be whipped or worshipped at their fancy. To see all the plots revolving around his life and how he'd been manipulated. To regret ever letting Ron and Hermione close.

At the thought of everything he felt his rage growing. In the wake of the darkness that quickly and inexplicably consumed him he had no more time for thought or other feelings. All there was was darkness of every kind as his fingers scratched stone from where he dropped to the floor. Ragged dirty nails bleeding and leaving streaks in their wake as tears of rage fell to mix with the red. Staining the floor with his blood and tears.

* * *

><p>So, what are your thoughts? I'm a fan of this myself, but if I don't get much response I'll probably just shelve it as a one-shot untill my other fics are done. Up to you readers and reviewers! :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Wow! You guys have been great. 4 Reviews, 2 favorites, and 5 alerts already? I have to admit that it got my ispiration going when I wasn't quite sure how to make this all work out, and so here's the next chapter :) It's mostly a filler, but never fear! I have the next chapter almost done and should post it in a day or two, so you won't have to wait long.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or make money off this.

* * *

><p>One day things began changing. The constant symphony of screaming and yelling, scratching and pounding, moans and grunts had changed. The sounds of the wind beating against the worn stone of the prison and that of the dementor's rattling around were, for the first time since his incarceration, the loudest in the prison.<p>

Oh, he could still here the same noises, but they were further out, echoing back to the wing he was kept in by the reverberation off stone. The cells' around him had gradually grown quiet, waiting, and watchful. It made him nervous. In fact, for the first time since he had been locked away in this prison, he began to fear he wouldn't live the long life he'd dreamed of in the brief happy moments of his childhood.

The most unsettling part of the whole affair was that he was surrounded by Death Eaters. Oh, they'd let him know of it harshly at first too, taunting him and mockingly asking him if he'd been sent here to spy on them. They'd done everything they could to rile him up until one day he'd just been unable to continue, ignoring all the taunts until they eventually died out, only occasionally reemerging. They'd never exactly been silent though, they had all been broken, their cool pureblood composures cracked by the environment and their vile guards.

It had brought him a small amount of satisfaction, to realize that his enemies were broken so. Then he would remember that they'd been abandoned by their side to this place just as he had been, however he knew that if Voldermort had controlled the prison these people would be set free. That thought always left bile in the back of his mouth; the light would entrap their so called "Savoir," treating him worse than Voldermort might have.

He had learned things though, in the demented whispers and screams that surrounded him he'd learnt more about the "dark side." Like how Bellatrix and her husband we're on the outs, for all that they were locked in here together, and that they were married because Voldermort deemed it so.

For whatever good that would do him…for they weren't things of importance, just knowledge that he pieced together to keep himself as sane as he could.

He was losing that battle though, for being innocent meant nothing in here when you've been raised with the knowledge that you'd be punished whether you did wrong or not. No, the thought of his innocence gave him no hope, only anger at those that had turned on him.

Oh look, he'd gotten off track again. That had started to happen more often now, and he tried not to think about what that said for his sanity.

Back to the quiet, it was unsettling to say the least because of who he was surrounded by. Without any guards, or notes, why would they have all stopped screaming and yelling as if they were all behind silencing spells? He still heard some noise, so that couldn't be it.

He'd been stuck on this thought for days, trying to understand why and how all those Death Eaters would be quiet, until inspiration struck him.

He had been just waking up from another nightmare, visions of Voldermort summoning his minions for a big attack, and as always was clutching his forehead against the pain in his scar. That's when he'd remembered, all the Death Eaters had marks on their arm. He'd seen them somewhat in his visions, throughout the years or months or however long he'd been here. The people here with him must be feeling the call, knowing their lord was back, and they were silent in wait of some eventual rescue.

That's when his plan had formed. Perhaps it was out of desperation, maybe he'd gone mad already and this was just him getting attention, he never really could be sure. He did think it would work though, it would be hard to pull off but he could manage.

He would allow himself to leak thoughts to Voldermort, not unusual, but these would slowly change towards absolute hate for the light and his muggle relatives. He would slowly convince Voldermort that he was for the same ideals, that the side he supposedly stood for had turned him against them in their ignorance. That was just the kind of irony the Dark Lord would be able to appreciate, Dumbledore being fool enough to turn the boy-who-lived to his side through rash Gryffindor actions. Then when the others got rescued he would be too. Perhaps as a prisoner at first, but eventually he would get free, and when he did he was going to get the heck away from the wizarding world and this war. He didn't know who he hated more, or which side would be considered the enemy or ally at this point, but he knew he was sick and tired of it all.

He would eventually be free, he could just feel it.

* * *

><p>So, what do you think? I'm trying not to be too cliche' with the plot, so please let me know if I'm veering into dangerous territory! Lol, and Review!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, so this took a day or so longer than I thought to post because I got distracted by a 10 page research paper that was due today...Sorry about that! As soon as it was done however I got to finishing the 3rd chapter and so, ta-da! It's here :) Thanks again for the reviews, they let me know that writing this story is something you guys want, and that keeps me motivated!

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or make money off this.

* * *

><p>Immediately he began to put his plan into action, the idea of having some sort of goal making him as quiet and focused as the Death Eater's surrounding him in their own cells. This time though, he didn't jump head first into his plot, no he took his time. He slowly began to build up his knowledge of their link, trying to notice the differences of when they were more strongly connected vs. when they were simply attached. He made sure to keep the plan out of his mind most of the time, instead focusing his thoughts slightly more towards the Death Eaters around him, putting fake thoughts of why they were so quiet to the forefront. Spicing those ideas up with a hint of fear to make the Dark Lord happy.<p>

It was only after he had found as much as he could about this connection that he began to put his plan to action, not faking anything at first, just waiting for the perfect moment. This came sooner than he thought, for the next time the Dementor's made their rounds near his cell he got the perfect opportunity.

The memory was one of his earlier ones, involving the Dursley's, and as such he was a tiny thing. Still unknowing about the wizarding world and thinking his name was "boy", perfect.

It hit quickly, as it always did with Dementor forced musing's and remembrances, the time when he was chased by Aunt Marge's dog up a tree, his family laughing nearby, causing unfeigned anger inside of him. It truly wasn't so hard to begin to put his plan into action afterword's, thoughts switching positions with Aunt Marge while his family looked on horrified and unable to help soothing his angered soul. Truly, it was a pleasant thought. He did have to force himself to question if all muggles were like this though, ask why the light wizards had left him there.

It was a delicate balance, making himself add prejudice to his true anger while at the same time keeping all thoughts of any sort of plan out of his head. Like walking on a tightrope really, the tiny string under his feet being the only path that would make this work, the slightest wobble or misstep possibly crashing the whole thing down.

He would get better at it though, he promised himself, and he would do this right. There was no room for mistakes really. He couldn't just suddenly believe in Voldermort without raising suspicions, and he already didn't trust the light so that "revelation" couldn't be used to speed things along. He would just have to wait, letting each memory serve as a "reminder" of all that was "wrong" in the world so to speak. Let the prison and his conditions do most of the work for him.

Eventually he would work up to what Voldermort would call an acceptable level of hate, and then he would maintain it, and wait for the eventual rescue. For a rescue would come, Voldermort couldn't leave his loyal in these cells forever and the prisoner's knew it, and when it happened he would be leaving with them.

-1111

Eventually it became far too easy to bring up his anger and disgust whenever he remembered how he was treated by his relatives, or the fickle nature of the wizarding public. He had to battle down the small part of himself that feared he liked these thoughts a little _too_ much, promising himself that he wouldn't be seduced by the dark. He would stay with the plan no matter what happened.

He knew he had to mix things up soon though, for the only thing worse than agreeing with Voldermort too soon would be to let his thoughts grow stale and predictable. So, he began to throw in musings of his own, never knowing when the Dark Lord was watching. He would pretend guilt he didn't feel, at betraying his first friends and the good side with what he was becoming, only to come back right afterwords with righteous anger, mocking all that the "light" was.

Truly it was more of a hardship than a calculation to keep this up, because it was almost too much to try to hate or loathe or feel guilt anymore. He'd gotten to the point where everything was just either interesting, slightly annoying, or slightly gleeful, other than he initial thoughts that is. At first he'd thought this might be cathartic, work all his anger out and then he'd be ready to just abandon ship with no regrets once he was free. He was slowly finding this wasn't the case however, as he couldn't quite figure out why he cared anymore.

Would life really be better when he was out? Would he regain his ability to feel normally? Instead of the apathy with bursts of madness fueled emotion thrown in? Truly he couldn't say.

The days bled in this fashion though, him randomly thinking whatever he could make himself bring up the care for, or the random bits of anger or sorrow that would grip him that he couldn't escape, that last bit of madness being his true hope for Voldermort's sympathies because it was always bitter thoughts that he would have in those moments. Eventually something broke up the monotony though, a vision that gripped him in his sleep. Voldermort was in a session with his inner circle, the rows of masks tilted towards the ground as all those gathered bowed before his snake-like visage. He couldn't hear any thoughts as always, but the conversation that went on told him plenty.

"Assembled Death Eaters, the time is growing closer and the ministry is finally getting a clue about our return and the danger we pose. We must strike upon Azkaban soon before they learn of their guards loyalty change." At this many of the forms before him jolted in surprise, and a snake like hissing that went for laughter was issued from the lip-less mouth. "Yes, the dementors are under my control. As such it is imperative that we release my loyal now while it is easiest. This will also help with our campaign to make the government loose the little credibility they have left."

Chuckles from the robed figures accompanied this, forced or not it was hard to say, but they all appeared to agree at least and that's what actually mattered to their Dark Lord. "I want a team of 5 of your, my inner circle, and 5 of the new recruits to be in charge of the break out. Lucius," at his name being mentioned the lone silvery blond haired head tilted up slightly, looking at Voldermort just at the knee.

"Yes, my lord?" The aristocrat asked, no defiance in his tone when faced with his master.

"You will lead this attack." He paused after this, watching for any arguments that would never come. "And Lucius?"

"Yes, my lord?" The blonde again asked in the same tone as before.

"I want you to get the Potter boy too, he is not to be killed or maimed but simply brought to me. I will decide what to do with him."

The mask's on the audience couldn't quite hide their surprise, as they'd thought the Potter boy being left to rot by his own side had been their Lord's favorite idea. No one dared argue or question why however, and it was silent other than for the blonde man's reply of "Yes, my lord," before everything went black as the vision ended and he was trapped in the darkness before waking.

Eventually he did wake, and once he did he couldn't help but feel giddy. Whatever was to come, whatever his fate may be, he would soon find out at least some of it. His plan had worked, either by the way he wanted or through some other means he didn't know, but the result was still there.

Within the next few days, he would once again see the sun.

With that thought fresh in his mind Harry Potter, boy-who-lived and alleged traitor and savior, smiled truly for the first time since his incarceration.

* * *

><p>So, what do you think? Is he going to turn dark, get snapped up by the light, make his escape and live far far away? Also, as far as pairings go right now I'm contemplating making this a HarryRabastian pairing, but not a Harry joins the Dark side and kills everyone fic...what do you think? Interesting or just dissapointing?

Review and let me know! :) Till Next Time.


End file.
